


I'll Still Feel the Pull of You (if we ever get far apart)

by Tdtori



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Getting Together, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tdtori/pseuds/Tdtori
Summary: It's easy to find him, even when she can't see the entire length of the ice. Riza knows exactly where he is. They have perfected the art of the drop-pass so many times that reporters have written full-length articles about it. After almost six years of playing together, they have become a dynamic duo in the Amestrian Hockey League.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, boy. My first fma(b) fic! Of course, I had to make it hockey related. I promise it's not too technical and is still very easy to follow. Also, this is dedicated to my spouse/partner-in-crime/number 1 fan, who always peaked into the doc while I was writing. Love you, Ryn!
> 
> The title comes from The National's "The Pull of You".

It's easy to find him, even when she can't see the entire length of the ice. Riza knows exactly where he is. They have perfected the art of the drop-pass so many times that reporters have written full-length articles about it. After almost six years of playing together, they have become a dynamic duo in the Amestrian Hockey League. 

It had worked perfectly since Grumman put them in the same starting line-up. Roy, the dynamic center who has been captain of the East City Lightning for the past three years. And Riza, the defensewoman who throws a better right hook than Roy does. This comes in handy when he finds himself in the middle of scrum because his chirp hit a little too close to home. Or maybe it's because he can never get his gloves off fast enough to even throw a punch, which is why Riza has to step in.

Either way, Riza had never enjoyed hockey as much as she did when she signed her first contract with the team. The minor leagues were hockey, even college was fine, but in East City, everything comes even more naturally.

It helps that the team feels more like a family than a sports team. That Rebecca Catalina is not just a bonafide star in the making, but her chirps are next level. So are her wingwoman skills, if Riza is being completely honest. 

That Jean Havoc is not just a grinder who steps in when Riza isn't on the ice to defend Roy's honor but is the life of the party whenever the team goes out after a game. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Behind you!" shouted Riza over to Roy. 

But even her word of warning falls on deaf ears and he still tries to go for the breakaway goal, instead of passing it to her. "Idiot," she mumbled. 

Somehow the horn still goes off and the lights still flash, because of course, he scored. She shakes her head as she skates over to him, wrapping her arms around him as Havoc and Armstrong join her. "Dumbass. Don't try that again!" But Riza is quite clearly trying to fight the smile off her face.

"I know what I'm doing, Hawkeye," he grins down at her before patting the head of the rest of the team as they skate towards the bench.

Even though she's the assistant captain, Riza finds herself filling the role of a captain every once in a while. "No, Mustang, what the fuck? You need to give the puck to Elric, not Army," she tells him in a huddle before a face-off.

That comment earns her a very annoyed look from Mustang and an extremely smug look from rookie Edward Elric. "Fine." He agrees, skating to the faceoff circle. 

Of course, the plan works and Elric scores to give them a 2-0 lead with just five minutes to go in the third period. But her only thanks from Mustang is a roll of his eyes. At least while they're near Elric that is. 

"Hawkeye," he nudges her shoulder as they put their gear back in their stall. "Nice, uh, plan with that faceoff."

Her smile is a bit softer as the rest of the team has emptied and it's just them a few stragglers left behind. "You need to keep your options open. Elric is clutch in those situations." 

Sure, Riza only knows that because she watched almost every single game of his when he was in college, but still. She knows that Mustang hates watching tape, hates watching himself make the mistakes he already knew about and listening to Grumman tell him what to do better next time. 

He hates that almost as much as he seems to dislike the newest rookie, but Elric doesn't seem to like Mustang either. 

This is partially why Riza steps in, filling the captain role when it comes to giving him guidance and support. If it wasn't her, she knew that Elric would request a trade to the Resembool Rangers in no time. 

"Are you coming out tonight?" He asks, actually turning to her. 

Riza laughs a little, grabbing her keys and twirling them around her finger. "And babysit you guys after you have six tequila shots?" 

Mustang rolls his eyes and starts for the door, leaving her behind. "That was one time, Hawkeye! One time! If you've been paying attention, I haven't even drunk tequila since then." 

All this information is things she already knew. As if Riza ever stops paying attention to the team, to Mustang. Someone has to make sure they stay out of trouble, right? That's what she tells herself at least. That's partially what being assistant captain is on the ice anyway. It's why she never gets drunk. It's why she allows herself two beers and then goes home alone once she makes sure everyone else is okay. Just like she has for the past six years.

Okay, that's not the only reason. 

It might stem from something else. From knowing how she acts when she gets drunk and the fact the entire team will be there. This isn't college where if she hooked up with another player––. Her mind stops there, not wanting to finish the thought. 

Riza catches up to him, walking beside him as they go out to their cars. "While that may be true, you still require babysitting," she looks up at him, stoic as ever. "You are a lightweight, Mustang." 

His face turns to shock and disbelief, scoffing at her. But there's something else there, Riza can tell. Amusement or...something she can't quite place in his eyes. A twinkle of sorts. "I am not. Not showing very good leadership by spreading lies, Hawkeye."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Bars haven't been Riza's scene since she was underage. When it was a thrill to get in one. Now, they're not nearly as exciting and the only thing she really enjoys is watching the team make a fool of themselves. Havoc hitting on a girl and she just knows that he brings up the fact that he's a professional hockey player. Will show off a scar he has on his bicep because a skate once cut him there. Rebecca is more subtle about the people she picks up. Uses a lot of eye contact and touches their arm at just the right moment. 

And there's Fuery and Breda who always try to sing karaoke. Even though they can not hold a tune to save their goddamn lives. Especially after shots. 

Riza watches everyone from a booth that the team grabbed, even though she's the only one at it right now. And while bars are not her scene, she can't help but feel a warmth here. She tries to push it down and forget about it. Despite everyone feeling like family, she knows a family can fall apart in seconds flat. Almost as quick as one of Elric's wristers. 

"Everything alright?" A familiar voice with a much-too-familiar warmth asks. Mustang slides into the booth seat across from her, eyebrows raised and glass in hand. He's drinking whiskey, which means he'll go home with the girl Havoc is hitting on. 

There's a routine to all of this now. A predictability that makes it easy to map out, to walk through. Riza can't explain how she knows all this, she just does. She's good at watching. At hanging back. It's why she's a better defensewoman than forward. Seeing the whole picture makes everything easier. 

She nods her head and finishes the last drink of her beer. It's only her first, so she has a while to go before she heads home. "I'm going over that play from the first period. Your turnover––"

Mustang cuts her off with a groan. "Hawkeye, you don't need to be replaying every moment from a game all the time." 

It's funny because she knows he does the exact same thing. 

But also, Riza only made that comment because she knew it would bug him. She didn't want to talk about herself. In interviews she always went back to the team, complimenting them or pointing out a great play they made. "If we want to do well in the playoffs, then hell yes I do." They had made the playoffs four out of the six years of Roy and Riza leading the team but managed to fall short each time. 

Mustang's shoulders relax and he finishes off his whiskey. "You sure you don't want to be a captain? I bet teams are lined up just waiting for you to announce you want a trade." His tone takes a melancholy sound to it.

Riza squints at him. There's something off about his question, his tone. Why would he be asking this now? He should be off stealing Havoc's girl by now. "No…," she says carefully. "I want to be here. With you." There's just a brief pause before she realizes how that sounds "With the team," she adds. 

Thankfully, Mustang just nods his head. "Me too."

And she can't help but think that he was responding to the first part of her sentence. 

But Riza can't dwell on it. She hasn't allowed herself to dwell on that at all for the past year. 

* * *

  
  


Riza dreads playing the Central City Capitals. They play them no fewer than four times a season and every time Riza feels like she has to reign the team in. Tell them not to rise to their chirps and the hits that are borderlining on being a penalty. 

"Since when did you become captain?" Havoc asks with a smirk. 

"Yeah, Hawkeye!" Mustang chimes in just seconds after Havoc. "Isn't that my job?" 

Her expression doesn't change, she just puts her hair up before putting on her helmet. "If you think I'm coming to your defense to argue with a ref when you undoubtedly get a penalty...I have a bridge to sell in East City." 

The games against Central City are always tough. No matter who is playing on it, no matter what coach it is, no matter who the captain is. Although, they are a little easier when your teammates at least try to play defense and don't leave it up to defense(wo)men entirely. 

Riza gets off the ice after the Capitals score again making it 3-2 them and slides next to Mustang on the bench. "What the fuck was that?" 

His expression was blank, impossible to read. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You fucking lost your man. I can't fucking do everything out there, Mustang!" She yells at him loud enough that the team is starting to take an interest. "For what? So you could push and shove around Storch?" 

Mustang's still calm, watching the play on the ice. "His chirps crossed a line."

Riza's shoulders drop and the anger leaves her almost instantly. "How so?" The question is a dumb one, she knows what he was probably saying. Riza was one of only a handful of women who played in the league, who got significant ice time. She was only two to actually wear a letter on her jersey. 

"I wasn't just going to stand there and let him insult you." He still isn't looking at her and Riza thinks, no, knows, it's deliberate. "I'm going to fight him next time we're on the ice together."

She shakes her head, puts her helmet back on to get back out on the ice. "I don't need you to fight for my honor." And then Riza jumps back over the boards. 

The next thing Riza notices is that she's staring straight up at the lights and the arena is almost deadly quiet. Well, that's not true, there's the trainer, Winry, staring back at her. "Riza? You awake?" Her voice is soft. 

"Yeah, what happened?" Riza goes to sit up but Winry pushes her back down. 

The team doctor, Knocs, comes into view, unamused as ever. "Lay the fuck down, Hawkeye. You got boarded by Storch. You were out for just a few seconds. We're taking you into the room to check for a concussion." 

Riza's eyes widen and this time they allow her to sit up. "No, what the fuck? I want to play. I'm fine. Where's Mustang?" She looks around, but she already feels so dizzy that she vomits. And as if he heard her from wherever he was, he appeared almost immediately. 

He knelt beside her, a worried expression on his face. One that she had never seen before. "I'm going to help you get to the room, okay, Hawkeye?" 

It takes a moment to get her up on her feet, but Mustang and Havoc help her. There's an applause from the fans that just makes her head hurt. But Riza appreciates it all the same. The fact that these random people care about her and want to make sure she's okay. 

"I'm going to be fine," she tells the two guys with a faint smile. "I'll be back for the third period."

Mustang's face hardens a bit. "Don't come back. I want to make sure you're okay before you get back on the ice."

Riza holds his eye contact for a moment before realizing that he isn't going to budge. "Fine."

Staying in the training room sucked. Having a concussion sucked even more. They wouldn't even turn the game on the little television in the room, because it could fuck with her head. But she heard the crowd. 

And then someone else was coming in and the doctor had to turn the lights on. When she sat up, squinting, she saw Mustang with a busted lip that was bleeding all over his gold jersey. "Need some stitches," he said with a smile, blood covering his teeth. "Trust me, Storch looks worse."

"You're an idiot," Riza mumbled, covering her eyes with the washcloth that was given her. "You need to score, not fight."

Although she couldn't see Mustang's face, she could only picture his stupid stubborn look. As if saying 'No, I had to do this.' 

"And not stick up for my assistant? Bullshit." His voice was a bit muffled as he was getting stitches. "Don't worry, Catalina already scored in your honor as well." 

Riza smiled a bit, peeling the washcloth off her just so that Mustang could see one of her eyes. "Thanks. Not that I think you should be fighting and I'll be stepping in as soon as possible, but…"

Mustang looked over at her, still smiling that bloody smile. "Any time, Hawkeye. You know I have your back." 

  
  


* * *

  
  


The doctor tells her she can't play for three weeks. She can not practice. She can not go to the bar after the games with the team. 

There was a time in her life when she swore she'd never play hockey. That she wouldn't follow in the path of her father. That she didn't need people realizing that Riza Hawkeye was related to disgraced AHL coach Berthold Hawkeye. Who ran the Loire Suns into the ground and that it took practically a savior to even make them competitive. 

But then she joined Eastern University as a walk-on and the rest is, how they say, history. She can't help but laugh quietly alone in her apartment, remembering how a coach told her she had a scout who wanted to talk with her. That scout was actually Roy Mustang. 

There was something about him that made her think that maybe playing in the AHL was okay. That she could create a new legacy for the Hawkeye name. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Hawkeye!" Mustang called out, letting her know he was skating up on her left side. There was just one defender in between them. A two-on-one. 

Riza was pretty sure other teams hated when it was the two of them on a two-on-one, on a man advantage. Probably because they didn't need to shout anything, they already knew what to do. The goaltender always expected Mustang to shoot, with good reason. He was one of the best goal-scorers in the league, but. They never seemed to learn. And soon the puck was back her stick and then the horn sounded.

Mustang crashed into her, throwing his arms around her. "Fuck yeah!" 

It was only her second game back from her concussion, so she was a little...nervous about the celebrations. The last thing she wanted was to be put back on the injured reserve. Still, Riza laughed a little, looking up at him. "That pass wasn't too bad. Needs some work, considering the defender almost intercepted it." 

He scoffed as they skated to the bench. "Maybe one day you'll actually celebrate a goal without thinking through every move."

"Ironic," she mumbled under her breath. As if he didn't do the exact same thing in his head. Riza knew that Mustang knew that the pass was sloppy. 

They beat the Briggs Avalanche 4-0. Alphonse Elric, the rookie goaltender phenomenon, gets his first shutout. 

"We are getting you so drunk," Havoc laughed in the locker room. But Al doesn't seem so convinced. Neither does Ed. 

The team dissolves into talks about going out and which bar and if Havoc is ever going to get an actual girlfriend. His last girlfriend was a disaster. For a moment, Riza just watches and the warm feeling fills her up again. She can't help but feel that this team is special in more ways than one.

But she knows all too well about the dangers of getting too comfortable. About not staying on her toes and preparing for the worst. And even though the warm feeling floods over her, there's something else behind it. An anxiety, a fear, that she doesn't have a name for. 

A hand cups her shoulder and she already knows who it is. "I know that expression," Mustang warns as he sits down next to her in front of his stall. "It means you're stuck in your head again."

Riza looks at him, slightly insulted, even if he is right. "I was just thinking." But he doesn't look convinced at that. "I don't think I'm going to go out tonight." 

"What?" Mustang looks genuinely surprised and almost...upset. 

Not that she's going to think about that too much. Oh no, it's better for everyone if she keeps pushing those thoughts very far down. To cover them up with hockey and game plans and making sure the team stays in one piece. "It's just my second game back, I'm kind of worn out. And I have a slight headache." The doctor would have never allowed her to play if she told him that, but...she had to lie. She needed to play. 

Despite whatever narratives the media puts out, Roy Mustang is very easy to read. Or maybe that's because they've played together for so long. Either way, Riza can read him like a book. It's easy to see the worried expression that overrules whatever else he might be feeling. The way his hand drops from her shoulder. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"I...My car is already here, it'd be a hassle and––"

"Riza," his voice drops to a whisper and she can't help but make eye contact with him. They're not first name kind of people. It's always the last name. Always Mustang and Hawkeye. But here he is whispering her name like a child whispers a prayer. "It's not a big deal. I can bring you back here."

They've been playing this game for so long. Not hockey. The other game. Besides, just like a god with prayers, she can't give him what he wants. It would bring too much focus on something so ridiculous, so unimportant. "Hawkeye?" He says, reverting to their old habits. 

She finishes putting her hair, before nodding her head. "That would be nice, Mustang." 

His car blends in with all the other rich hockey player cars. A black SUV. Riza slides into the leather passenger side seat and instantly turns on the seat heater. "I'm fine. It's not that bad of a headache." 

Mustang looks at her with a stare that calls out her bullshit. "If you're still dealing with the effects you shouldn't be playing."

"Bullshit," she calls out, a bit more forceful than she meant it. "And let Storch win?" He probably got so much pleasure over the idea of injuring someone. It was a surprise he hadn't been banned from the league yet. 

His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. "It's not about Storch or that game. It's about your health and making sure you don't hurt yourself further." 

"I can take care of myself, Mustang!" 

"And I want to help!" 

They both just stare at each other as they hit the red light. It's almost too quiet. Riza knows that if she opens her mouth too much will come spilling out. So, she just nods her head and looks out the windshield. 

There's an audible sigh from the driver's side, but she can't look at him again. Doesn't want to see what expression is on his face this time. Riza silently curses herself for being able to read him so well. Silently curses herself for having to deal with these feelings alone and unable to say them out loud or else her career comes tumbling down.

A slut. A puck bunny. A puck slut. None of the names were creative or original. The names she had heard players call women more times than she cared to remember. They'd easily call her that. Coaches and general managers would put an asterisk by her name if she pursued this. It was something that he'd never understand. He wouldn't face the scrutiny, the name-calling. He'd get a high-five and a "job well done". 

It could ruin the team dynamic. This...family that she's never had before. That fills her with warmth. Riza can't ruin that.

Finally, they arrive at her apartment complex. 

"Do you want me to walk you up?" Mustang asks, slowly and carefully. As if he knows what Riza is thinking. It wouldn't surprise her, really. 

It's a moment of weakness. Of being too much in her head. "Yes, I do." 

Her answer surprises both of them. Their minorly shocked expressions mirror each other. But then his expression changes to something softer and Riza has to look away, gets out of his car to head for the stairs. It never does her any good to dwell on these small things. She'd be out of a job if that's all she did with her time. 

(She thinks back to the first time they made the playoffs together, which was also the first time the East City Lightning ever made the playoffs in their history. When they clinched their spot and everyone came rushing onto the ice, grabbing each other. 

How Mustang shouted "I love you" at really no one in particular, at the team, at the screaming fans, maybe. But he was looking right at her as if she was the only thing that mattered at that moment. 

How she got a little too loose at the team celebration, drinking much more than just her two beers. Rebecca told her that she should make a move on Mustang. Because she deserved to have some fun. 

There was also the way he was looking at her from across the bar. There was a woman in front of him, trying to have a conversation with him, but his eyes were locked on her. His small smile when he moved to sit in the booth seat across from her, nudging her foot. They were both too far gone. 

"Wanna sit outside?" He asked, words slurring just a bit. 

Of course, Riza agreed. They sat outside on a bench in the mild nighttime spring weather. Still chilly, but the wind doesn't hurt her face. It's quiet and she wonders if she should say something to fill it. But...the silence is almost welcoming. More comforting than any words. 

"Hey," Mustang said, looking over at her with a growing grin. 

Riza looks at him with a small smile of her own. "What?" 

"You're my...you're like my best friend. Don't tell Havoc.") 

He catches up to her on the stairs easily. Besides, she can hear him from a mile away. Not because he's noisy, quite the opposite. She just knows. "Would you tell me if you were genuinely not okay?" He asks, just barely out of breath for having to catch up to her. 

Part of her wishes they could just play hockey. That they didn't have to connect so well, that they didn't have any chemistry. It would make everything so much easier. "Yes," Riza says once she reaches her floor. "Can you please stop worrying about me so much?" She leans against the wall next to her, raising an eyebrow at him.

He stands in front of her, leaning against the door. "I'm your friend, Hawkeye. I think I'm allowed to be worried. To want to help." 

Riza looks down in her purse, fishing out her keys, swinging them around her finger. This goes beyond friendship, they both know this. But they can't stop playing this part. It's ingrained in them at this point. They're too good at being actors. As if these were the roles they were meant to play. "Have a good night, Mustang. Thanks for the ride." She goes to move him out of the way to unlock her door and he moves. 

"You can't just shut me out. It feels like you've been doing it for the past six years." His voice is stern, his captain's voice. "Riza…" 

She's halfway through the door when he uses her first name. Slowly, Riza turns back around to face him. "It's for the team. I'm sure you'll understand that." 

And then closes the door behind her. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Things go on as normal. They're professionals, they know better than to bring these sorts of things up. To pester the other about...the thing they do not talk about. It's probably why their friendship works so well. They don't unnecessarily bug the other person about something that was said or done. 

The only problem was that it was Riza's least favorite time of the season. Trade Deadline season. When practically anyone could be traded at a drop of a hat. Veterans, rookies, star players, grinders. You name it. 

The only good news is that she has a long contract, those are practically impossible to trade, and her name hasn't been brought up in any rumors. There's a few on the team that are worried and Riza does her best to comfort them. To tell them it'll be alright and to just focus on the game ahead.

Well, actually, that job is split between her Roy. Because every other practice a new player is going up to him, worried about their spot on the team. Worried they'll be traded to the Briggs Avalanche. Or the Resembool Rangers, where hardly anyone shows up to their games. 

––––––––––––––––

  
  


They end up in their usual seat at their usual bar after a game they win easily. Mustang gets a hat trick and Riza assists on every single one of his goals. Somehow it feels like they're playing better now. As if that was even possible. 

"Do you think anyone is going to get traded?" Riza asks, taking a long drink of her beer. All of her concussion symptoms are gone, but she still got hit hard into the bench. The bruise is already an awful purple-black color. 

Something is going on behind his eyes and she can't pinpoint it. Can't figure out if he's hiding something or if he's just thinking about how they might lose some players. Eventually, he shakes his head. "No, I genuinely don't think so. I mean, the team is in a good playoff spot, they're not going to trade anyone away." 

His words comfort her and she even smiles a little bit. Of course. If anything, they'll trade for someone. "Rebecca is worried. She's on an expiring contract, you know." And there have been rumors about the team not re-signing her. Even Rebecca has expressed may be wanting to play somewhere else. For a team in the Central Division. 

Mustang takes a slow drink of his whiskey. "I think you're the only thing keeping her." 

Maybe it's because she's on her third beer. Maybe, she wants to spend as much time with these people as possible. Maybe it's because she's tired of pushing the feeling away. Either way, Riza can't help asking, "What's keeping you here?" 

Although judging by the look he's giving her, she already knows the answer. 

Not that she's selfish enough to think that it's just her, but. Well. It's hard to see anything else in his expression. 

Not when he's teetering on the edge of tipsy. 

Not when he has his heart on his sleeve like that.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's the night before the deadline and Rebecca invites herself over with a couple of bottles of wine and Riza very well can't say no to either of those things. Especially when Rebecca is even more worried about being traded. "I want to stay. I mean, for at least this season! I'm going to sue whoever started that rumor about me not wanting to play here." 

Riza laughs a little and takes a drink of her wine. "You're going to be fine, Becca. You have the third-most goals on the team. They'd be ridiculous to trade you."

Rebecca sighs dramatically and lays down on her couch, making sure not to spill a drop of her wine. "I don't want to talk about being traded. I want to talk about the other rumor." She wiggles her eyebrows at Riza, which just makes her scoff.

Once upon a time, a few years ago, and a few bottles of wine deep, Riza let it spill that. Well. Her true feelings about Roy Mustang. Something that Rebecca brings up every so often as if anything has changed on that front. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing? Riza, come on, you can't just pine forever. Neither of you can. What's the worst that could happen?" 

It's such an innocent question. One that Riza knows Rebecca hasn't thought about as she has. Hasn't gone through every terrible scenario in her head. There's a reason they don't talk about it. It's safer, easier that way. But she doesn't know how to explain it to Rebecca. "Trust me, I think Mustang and I have more important things to worry about." Riza smiles and takes a drink, something deep in her telling her she should let him know. 

* * *

They have a damn good practice and Mustang asks if she wants to get lunch. It's innocent, they've had these lunches more times than Riza can count. Mostly to talk strategy, practice and games. Because as much as Grumman is the coach on paper, Mustang knows this team better than anyone. Knows this game better than anyone. 

Riza knows people still discredit him because he was made captain so young, but he's the best player on the team. He's the best leader this team has ever had. Is smart in ways that other people overlook. She could listen to him talk all day. Hell, she could talk with him all day. From line changes to the goaltenders to the defensive pairings. 

"Anyway, I was thinking maybe we put Elric on the same line as––" Mustang gets cut off by a phone ringing.

It takes her a moment to realize it's her phone. It's the general manager. In the afternoon of the Trade Deadline day. She looks up at Mustang with her eyes wide. She knows she looks scared. Genuinely scared. "Hello?" 

Her ears start ringing. "Is this a joke?" She asks, a familiar taste of bile in her throat. 

The phone call ends as quickly as it started. Riza can't bring herself to look up at Mustang. Just at her empty plate. "I've been traded," she says quietly. "I have to go."

He grabs her wrist before she can stand up, making her look at him. 

She's an idiot. She's such an idiot. Because she knows, they both know. They've played together for six years, they should've fucking said something. And now. She was going to be a member of the Central City Capitals. Her stomach churned once more. "

"Hawkeye," Mustang says, surprisingly professional. Surprisingly firm. "You've been the best assistant captain I could've asked for. Central City is getting one helluva player." He smiles a bit and lets go of her wrist. 

Riza nods her head, returning his smile. "I wouldn't have wanted to play in the AHL if you didn't come talk to me at Eastern University. I've had…" She gets choked up a bit. A rare display of emotions from her in the middle of this restaurant. "It's been the best six years of my life. Being here."

But the other words don't come out. From either of them. 

"I, uh, need to get some of my shit together. I have a plane to catch tonight," she stands up, grabbing her purse and fishing around her for keys. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thinks that Rebecca was right. What was the worst that could've happened? Especially now that she was traded. 

* * *

Playing for the Capitals was nothing like playing for the Lightning. Instead of being the top-pairing defensewoman, she got only a few minutes of playing time a game. No matter how hard she practiced or worked out or played, nothing seemed good enough for Coach Bradley. 

Really, she was happy that no one cared to be friendly to her. That no one invited out with him after the game. Riza hated the team. They were a bunch of scumbags both in and off the ice. 

She was good at working her ass and then going home. It was just like when she lived with her dad. He'd be gone often, so she'd be by herself. There were five years left on her contract, but she could handle it. 

It would be nice if her teammates at least acted like it on the ice, but that was fine. Even if she got hit more times than anybody else and no one tried to step in. Riza had a mean right hook and wasn't afraid to use it when someone threw a nasty hit. Of course, she made sure that she didn't go to bat for any of her teammates either. Fuck them. They didn't deserve that. 

* * *

"Not a bad game, Hawkeye," Bradley tells her after a game she barely played but still managed to score two goals. 

Riza has to hold her tongue so she doesn't start swearing at him. "Thank you, coach," she says with a very forced smile. "Maybe next game I can get some more minutes." Thankfully, it doesn't come out as snarky as it sounded in her head. 

Bradley stares at her for a moment before an amused smile crosses his face. "I'll think about it." Which in Bradley terms means no fucking way. 

She's about to head out to her car when a hand touches her shoulder, making her instantly turn around, hand starting to raise to throw a punch. Even if it happened to be her teammate. But her hand relaxes, her entire body relaxes when she sees who it is. "Sheska?" The team's social media manager. She's probably the only person that Riza actually likes here.

The other woman smiles a bit, albeit a bit nervously as she just saw Riza Hawkeye getting ready to throw a punch. "Hi, Riza, I was wondering…" She trails off for a moment. "Well, I thought you could use a friend?" 

Riza manages not to react to her question which was probably supposed to come out as a statement. "What gave it away?" 

Sheska smiles a bit. "I know it's...different here than with the Lightning. Besides, my journalism degree does help me read people a bit."

It's hard not to laugh at that. "I have a bottle of red wine that hasn't been opened. If you wanted to come over." And while she tries to pretend she can do things on her own, that doesn't need other people, Riza knows that's inherently not true. She needs friends, people that care about her. People to laugh and talk with. 

Half an hour later, Sheska is at her still pretty bare apartment. There is a table with chairs in the kitchen area and Riza opens the bottle of wine and pours them both a fairly generous glass. "I thought the team and fans here would like you. I mean, you're one of the best players in the league! We made all these graphics and interviewed you and…"

The wine tastes bitter as Riza swallows it. Sheska is young, new to the Capitals. And while she works for the team, she hasn't quite understood the nuances and dynamics that take place. "It's not a big deal," she says with a roll of her eyes. The fans here couldn't matter less to her. Perhaps that's a bitchy thing to say, but Riza doesn't care. "Just have to play my best and forget about everything else."

Sheska frowns a bit at her answer and puts her wine glass down. "And you're going to do it alone?"

"I don't have anyone else."

  
  


* * *

  
  


Riza dreads playing the East City Lightning. Or, at least, she assumes she'll dread it. Not in the same way she dreaded playing the Capitals, but dread all the same. 

It's been a month, 13 games, since she got traded. Ironically, she seems to be playing some of her best hockey here despite the circumstances. Despite how little support she gets. While Riza isn't a spiteful person, she can't help but be fueled by it a little. At this rate, she'll be nominated for the best defensive player in the league at some point during her time here.

But the awards, the goals, the accolades mean nothing to her in comparison to what she desperately wants. 

To go home. 

The thought dances in her head for a moment, but she quickly shakes it away. That's not her team anymore. 

The crowd roars when they welcome her back, playing a short video on the jumbotron of her time here. There. Riza gives a small wave to them, trying not to get choked up. 

She skates to the center ice with the feeling of wanting to vomit rising in her throat. She stands across from Falman, her old defensive partner, watches Mustang get ready for the faceoff against Storch. None one on the other side makes eye contact with her and it has to be for the best. Riza knows that if any of them look at her she'll feel...regret or something unnamable. 

Something that she can't think about during a game. 

At one point Riza tries to make a drop pass, but it gets intercepted by Elric. She doesn't know these people well enough to try that shit. They don't understand her cues or body language. 

At the beginning of the third period, a deadlocked 2-2 game, the Lightning get a two-on-one and Riza is one. Staring down Roy and Havoc as they race towards the goal. She watches their facial expressions and knowing what she does about Mustang, drops in front of the puck as Havoc shoots. It hits her hard on her arm, but it doesn't go in the net. When she gets up, Mustang is still there, giving her a funny look. "You're too predictable," she calls to him before joining the play again. 

The game dissolves quickly as the third, and final, period passes. Storch is laying out monster hit after monster hit. All clean. Barely, Riza thinks, but still clean. She's surprised that no one has tried to fight him yet. 

Of course, she thinks that all too soon, because soon enough Storch and Roy are grabbing each other by the collar of their jerseys. "Fucking christ," Riza mumbles as she skates over there. Despite not wearing a letter here, she still feels the need to get in the middle. Maybe old habits just die hard. 

Roy is a graceful fighter if such a term even exists. Every punch is precise and thought out. Storch, on the other hand, fights like he has no game plan. As if all of this is a surprise to him. "Hey!" She shouts, trying to pull Storch away.

Getting too close was a mistake, Riza quickly realizes. The things Storch is saying, even with Riza standing right next to him. Her blood runs cold and part of her wants to punch him too, but she can't. She swallows hard, trying to focus on the noise of the crowd, the refs trying to break up the fight, anything but Storch himself. 

And it's easy to tell that a borderline hit didn't cause this fight. 

Roy gets in a few good punches and Storch's face is bloody. His nose is spewing blood, along with his lip. And even once he's down, calling mercy, Mustang throws in a few more. "Fuck you," and then, because Mustang can be a bit too rash at times, he spits on Storch. 

He gets ejected and Riza can only imagine that a suspension is going to go along with his actions. Especially because of the spitting.

They win the game, but it doesn't matter. 

She scored the game-winning goal, but it doesn't matter. 

Any idea of the team ever accepting her is thrown out the window. Riza doesn't even know why they traded for her if they were just going to do this. But she guesses it's probably best if she doesn't know. 

There's a figure waiting outside by her car and Riza swears under her breath. She's not religious by any stretch of the imagination, but she prays it isn't Storch or any of his cronies. Still, she puts her keys in between her fingers as she gets closer. It's pointless though.

"What are you doing here?" She asks Roy, sighing as she unlocks her car, throwing her bag into the back. Of course, she's also trying to fight off the smile that's threatening to appear. Even in the dark, she can see a black eye start to form under his right. His lip is only minorly busted. Storch looks worse and she can't help but smile at that. 

Roy shrugs, moves to lean against the hatch. "Wanted to see you. Obviously. It's been a month. And someone forgot how to text or call back."

Riza's thankful that they're in the dark because heat starts spreading across her face. "Do you want to grab a beer?" 

"You wanna come over?" There's something in his expression. 

Hope, Riza realizes. 

They take her car and she still remembers how to get to his house from here. Old habits die hard, she assumes. "You're going to be suspended, you know," she says casually as they hit a red light. 

When she looks over at him, he's grinning, trying not to laugh. "Yeah, but it was worth it."

"What did I say about defending my honor?" Riza can't help smiling back at him before the light turns green again. 

His expression changes once more, "Well. It was one of your teammates. You couldn't very well fight him. Even though I know you would've done better in the fight than me."

She's quiet for a moment as she turns into his neighborhood. "Thank you, Roy." Her voice is soft and she's positive that it plays her hand for her. That it tells him all he needs to know. 

"Of course, Riza. Anytime." 

They get halfway to the kitchen before either of them says anything again. "I've missed you," Roy says, turning to her in the hallway. "I...The team isn't the same without you. I mean, Catalina makes a fine assistant, but well." He runs a hand through his hair, looking down at the flooring before back up at her. "You're kind of impossible to replace." 

It's all she's wanted to hear. Well, almost all she's wanted to hear. At least her actual team misses her, at least they still consider her part of the team. "I've missed you too. All of you, but…" Riza trails off and wonders if he was always standing this close. "Especially you." 

That must've been all Roy needed to hear because soon he's pulling her close and he's kissing her. Her arms wrap around him and she wishes she had done this sooner, but it's no time for regrets. Not when they're here now. "When does your flight back to Central leave?" He asks, his lips pressed against her neck. 

"Tomorrow afternoon," Riza replies, a bit breathily. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Summer comes too quickly. Neither of either teams makes it far in the playoffs. 

Riza's back home, or well. If Roy's house counts as home during the off-season, then yes, she's back home. It's the most relaxed she's ever been in her entire life. As long as she stays off social media. Which Riza was already good at anyways. 

They're making lunch and talking about going south to visit Havoc. Of when they're going west for Falman's wedding. Or the engagement party for Edward Elric and Winry Rockbell. When her phone rings. "Hello?" 

"What is it?" Roy asks when she finally hangs up.

There's a stupid grin on her face and she knows it. It's too wide and too much teeth. 

Who says you can't go home again? 


	2. A Time To Celebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows that one day someone is going to ask her a lot of questions about the night. About that past couple of weeks. But Riza knows she’s not going to remember any of it. Or not remember it the way that the press wants her to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this a playoff celebration addition for Tumblr. And my spouse!

She knows that one day someone is going to ask her a lot of questions about the night. About that past couple of weeks. But Riza knows she’s not going to remember any of it. Or not remember it the way that the press wants her to. 

Instead, Riza will remember the playoffs in the number of teeth she lost (three), the number of times a drop pass was successful (eighteen), the number of times Roy got into a fight (two), and the number of time she thought she was going to suffocate because someone was hugging her too tightly (twenty). 

There are only twenty seconds left in the game, in the series, before they’re given the title as champions. No, not given, earned. 

Things are still dicey, the East City Lightning is only up by one goal. And if anyone can will their team to win it’s Briggs Avalance captain Olivia Mira Armstrong. Not necessarily because she’s a dynamic forward, quite the opposite. She’s a goaltender. But no one can rally the troops as she can. 

“Roy, on your right,” she calls out to him as Buccaneer starts to come racing up the ice. Riza pokes at the puck with her stick and he loses control of it. Before she can react to race for it, Roy is already there.

Ten seconds left. 

The puck bounces on his stick and he takes a wild slapshot on it that makes Riza cringe. It’s by far the sloppiest slapshot she’s ever seen and if time wasn’t ticking she’d definitely him never to try that again. 

Eight seconds left.

The lights start flashing and the horn goes off because of course, it does. Of course, Roy scored from that angle, from  _ that  _ shot. Still, even Riza can’t find much to complain about when she slams him into the glass, hugging him harder than she’s probably ever hugged anyone. The others surround them and if anyone was saying anything, it can’t be heard over the roar of the crowd. 

They go back to center ice, trying to remain composed despite the fact they’re eight seconds from their first championship. In almost a fifty-year history of the team, they’ve never come this close. They’ve never made it to the finals. 

The puck drops again and Roy wins the faceoff and immediately passes to Riza. “Keep it,” he shouts to her, the grin breaks through the stoic expression he usually wears on the ice. 

For six seconds that’s exactly what Riza does, she plays keep away. Then the buzzer sounds for good and she’s pretty sure she instantly goes deaf from how loud it gets, from how loud her teammates are when they throw their gloves and sticks into the air and crush her into the glass. 

She wraps her arms around anyone she can, pats the heads of anyone she can reach and she can’t help but laugh. When she finally manages to open her eyes and take a look at the team, Roy is right there in front of her. 

(The team doesn’t know. Or at least, they never  _ told  _ them. Riza’s pretty sure they’re smart enough to figure it out.) 

And if it wasn’t for the crowd of almost twenty thousand people she would’ve kissed him, but instead, she just smiles up at him and pats him on the head. 

If this was a novel or some cheesy romantic comedy, she would think that she never loved Roy more than in this moment. But their relationship has never been about hockey or trophies or even winning. No, she’s  _ proud _ , that much is certain. But there a million more moments where she’s loved him more. 

Finally, they skate out to center ice, hardly able to stand still as the Lindsay Cup is brought out. Everyone pushes Roy closer since he’s the captain. He stands there, listening to the commissioner ramble on about what a good team the Lightning are, about what they did during their run. 

Then he’s lifting it and it’s like every worry Riza ever had about hockey falls away. 

It’s a bit of a blur after that. She knows that Roy hands her the Cup to lift and skate around the ice and the crowd roars for in particular. How glad they are to have her back. How thankful they are to helping bring the Cup home. She knows she hands it off to Rebecca, but everything kind of blends together after that. Even her winning MVP of the playoffs doesn’t really register.

The locker room is where the real party starts and before she can even grab a bottle of champagne, the team is already spraying her and Roy. “Oh, you’ll pay for that,” she laughs and the team goes quiet for a moment considering her  _ aim  _ is far better than any of theirs. 

She drinks the entire bottle over the course of pouring beer bottles on everyone else and spraying even more champagne. She’s about to reach for a beer to drink when Roy appears at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist as he takes the beer from her and takes a drink himself, a smirk on lips. “Will you sign my jersey, Lindsay Cup Champion?” He slurs. 

He’s already drunk. He’s a bottle of champagne deep and Riza knows that he probably reached drunk at the halfway point of the bottle. Still, she can’t help but laugh. The noise cuts off when he drops the beer bottle and puts his hand on the back of her neck, kissing her deeply. 

If the team reacts in any sort of way, she doesn’t notice. And sure, she lifted the Cup and saw the rest of her teammates do the same, but the championship really hits her when Roy kisses her. All the work and sweat and  _ blood _ they poured into this team finally paid off. 

“Holy  _ fuck _ ,” she mutters when she sees the sunlight pouring through the window the next morning. No, afternoon. Definitely the afternoon.    
  
Roy groans next to her and pulls her to him once more, burying his face in her neck. “Think anyone will notice if we don’t go to any of the celebrations today?”

Riza hums. “Probably, but I think we earned a break.” 

“Who said anything about a break?” He says and when she looks over at him he’s giving her a grin that has trouble written all over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me @ rezahawkeye.tumblr.com!

**Author's Note:**

> rezahawkeye.tumblr.com is where you can find me.


End file.
